The boogeymen are here
by CheBelFior
Summary: I know that the only dream I'll dream will be a man clad in black with eyes as cold as ice. As cold and blue as ice. And the other man with purple eyes that burned into your soul like the flames of hell.


I can hear everything. The howling of the wind, the scratching of branches against the windows, the hoots of an owl somewhere close by. The crunch of gravel under the feet of the two men outside of the house also manages to reach my ears.

How can I possibly sleep?

The room is filled with shadows that almost look to be reaching out to me with clawed hands. I can only make out the silhouettes of the objects around the room. The pink dressing table against the wall to my right and the cushioned chair that still hadn't been tucked under, the chest of drawers with articles of clothing hanging out. The wardrobe against the far wall that looked down on everything and everyone like a giant would. The wardrobe that was hiding the door so well you would never have known there was one.

The moonlight seeping through the window didn't seem to be lighting up the room at all.

… My eyes still won't close.

How could they? I know that the only dream I'll dream will be a man clad in black with eyes as cold as ice. As cold and blue as ice. And the other man with purple eyes that burned into your soul like the flames of hell.

I can't sleep.

I don't want to sleep.

Instead I slip out of the bed, the sheets trying to follow me out but fall. I make my way to the window and open it, resting my elbows on the windowpane and looking down at the two men below. Both are blond, like me. One has hair of a similar length, but the other's hair is far shorter. He was the one pacing around while the other watched, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You'd think they were close friends.

As close as me and Toris are…

If only I could see him again, or listen to his sweet voice once more. Maybe that's what it would take for me to be able to sleep peacefully again.

So I called down to them. I asked again where he was, why he wasn't here with me. And I got the same answer as the night before.

"He's fighting the Russians," It was always Arthur who said it. He was always so calm… "Surely you hadn't forgotten..?"

"Of course he hadn't, Anglettere, he's simple worried, non?"

Francis. He wasn't as calm and sophisticated as Arthur, but he was nicer.

"I know that, but still…"

He always had to have the last word, didn't he? But of course, he's a Briton after all.

He turned to look up at me, acid green eyes shining through the darkness. They're like a fox's. They're bright and clear and full of dark secrets.

"You don't have to worry, you know," He sighed, a somewhat retired look on his face. "We're going to be here all night."

"Exactly, so step away from the window," Francis smiled warmly. Yes, he was much nicer than Arthur. "And go back to sleep, enfant."

But I don't move. I can't go back to bed, I just can't…

"… We won't let them get you, you know…"

I know they won't. They're both strong, everyone knows that…

But there's something stopping me…

I don't know what, so I just complain about all the noise. I complain about the howling wind that has made its way into the room. I complain about the scratching branches that are creeping closer to my face by the minute. I complain about the hooting owl that I can see nestled on a branch farther down the road. Its eyes…

Its eyes are red.

But when I blink, they're yellow.

I don't like that shade of yellow…

"Just pretend its music," Arthur sent him a sceptical look, but he ignored it. "Like a drum, and let the rhythm lull you to sleep."

"You can try counting sheep, too," Arthur added. The sceptical look had disappeared. "That worked for… For Alfred…"

Nobody spoke. Nobody ever spoke when he brought up Alfred.

So I did what I was told. I stepped away from the window and started to close it…

"Don't forget that we're right here!"

"We'll protect you," They both looked up at me with determined looks in their eyes. "It's a promise."

I nodded, a false smile making its way onto my lips, and I closed the window.

I slipped back into bed, tucking myself in.

But Toris did it better than I did…

My eyes shut, and I try to count sheep like Arthur said.

But I don't see any sheep.

All I see are bodies.

Bodies of people that I've seen before…

They're… They're Polish. They live in the village not so far from here…

I try to pretend that the howling and the scratching and the hooting are music…

Like drums…

Yes, I can do that much. But these drums don't sound like the drums that I dance to with the villagers…

These are war drums. These are the drums of sorrow and pain and death.

I open my eyes, hoping to get rid of the bodies that pile up and up.

The wardrobe has moved.

The wardrobe isn't blocking the door anymore.

And it isn't sheets that I feel around my neck.

But the hand of a man clad in black. A man clad in black with eyes as cold as ice. As cold and blue as ice.

I shouldn't have opened my eyes.

But in my dreams there were two men…

And then I see him. Standing in the doorway and staring at me with purple eyes that burned into my soul like the flames of hell.

The boogeymen…

The boogeymen are here.

I let out a shrill scream and hope that Arthur and Francis can hear everything too.


End file.
